


bleeding hearts of gold

by Syorein



Category: Mystic Messenger
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-02-13 13:58:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12985533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syorein/pseuds/Syorein
Summary: Her mother was always a terrible bleeding heart, and she realizes that she is a product of her mother.The only thing that saves her from breaking is her father’s genes of apathy.(MC; Canon Divergence; Everyone Lives!AU)





	1. Chapter 1

Her heart burns and tears at itself when she sees Rika screaming out for V.

She doesn’t understand, she does not wish to understand, but she does. 

In the most intense way possible, her empathy flares up and she is left blind by the sheer emotion rushing throughout her at this. 

_At all of this._

She is so, very, tired and her heart will not give her the luxury of a break. 

And so she runs away with V and Seven, all the while pretending her heart is not pulsing in raging anger— _at herself_ —and pain. 

* * *

V is so reliant on her. 

So is Seven.

She knows everything about them, all there is to know, and there is nothing they know about her. 

There are worse alternatives, she knows.

Her heart and soul are made of a mixture of the purest of light and the grey-est apathy in existence.

She spends most of her time as a rock for them.

They need it, she realizes this, and so she locks everything away and instead takes upon their emotions.

She files everything away until she feels like she’s going to burst.

But she feels like that regardless.

* * *

These endings, they never work for her.

Because she knows, innately, that she is selfish.

_So, very, selfish._

There are resets after resets, and she does not bother with bad ends because she knows that they are no good.

Her empathy has always lent her an emotional sensitivity to atmospheric changes.

She pretends that she can love them, and sinks into her apathy when they shower her in love.

Love might be the one thing that she cannot emphasize in.

At times she is thankful for this, but other times she is resentful that she doesn’t have the capacity to return what is given to her.

* * *

The thing that makes her heart has her burn and tear herself for others— _you are so much like your mother_ —and she is nothing but in pain when she looks upon the world.

She idly wonders if not for her compartmentalizing skills, she would’ve broken much before this.

— _like her mother_ —


	2. Chapter 2

She spends more time than she should caring for them.

Parts of her father’s genes are repulsed by every move, and she cannot help the part of her that silently agrees. 

Most of the time, it’s her ontaking everything that V is giving to her. 

She allows him to throw his burdens on her, and tries to convince him that martyrdom is not the answer. 

The irony and hypocrisy is not lost on her, and she is very lucky that Seven is much too wrapped up in the idea of his brother to notice. 

But Vanderwood does.

And he is good in not saying a word, because he is realistic and she and the rest of the world are not. 

Her life is spent in a temporary relief, and she pretends that Ray has not died because of her. 

_She ignores the fact that her first bad end included him murdering her._

* * *

The amount of time she spends in V’s route is almost enough to make her break, but she never does.

It’s never the fact that she is strong.

Because she truly isn’t.

It’s more or less the fact that she has gained a desperate need for this to all end— _mother I want to go back_ —and her heart will give out on her if she does not take this chance to save them all.

Her best bet is this, because this is the only time V allows himself to be saved.

The awareness that no one will ever save her in return is shoved into a box in the middle of nowhere as she sinks herself into the memories of her mother at her worst.

_Her memories are starting to mix, and she tries her very best to stop resetting._

* * *

With her memories of her family— _mother_ —starting to fade, she takes up drawing with a new fervor for the next ten resets.

Time is desperately spent on recalling and retracing everything she knows about her parents, and she ignores everything that has to do with the RFA and Mint Eye.

The burning in her heart is barely soothed by the memories of her father’s nonchalance at a burning stove, and she draws upon this so much that she even dreams of burning stoves.

She draws her parents constantly, and the fact that their voices are lost on her is violently ignored as she restarts the same drawing day by day every reset.

Her hands are not used to this, it will never be— _this body is not yours_ —and the spasms of pain become something of a routine for her.

Bodily, she is essentially running on caffeine and her own cells eating themselves.

Mentally, she is stuck in a perpetual state of exhaustion and the incomings of an emotional breakdown that never comes at the expense of her terrible coping mechanisms. 

Sometimes she tiredly wonders if she had ever done anything to deserve this. 

_She thinks she did, but she doesn’t even know anymore._

* * *

She can’t afford to lose anymore memories to the resets, so she pins everything she has on V’s route.

The time she took off the last route to analyze everything she can possibly do without getting herself out of the loop, or killed, leaves her with the decision that if she doesn’t make it now—

_she won’t ever make it_.

* * *

**(her dreams call for her mother, and the sickening part of herself that is nothing but disease calls for her own demise)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly I’m trying to update more because I’m trying to apply for a scholarship but I kind of don’t know how to find people to recommend me because I kind of don’t want people to know I write really bad fanfiction lol

Gentle hands guide her through the Mint Eye’s headquarters, as she quietly answers Ray’s questions. 

She refuses to call him Saeran until he wishes her to— _what a pushover_.

The script for this is long gone, because she cannot procure it up the same way she did then. 

So she doesn’t, and he tells her that she is nothing like he imagined. 

What he imagined is nothing like what she turned out to be. 

He saw some angel, but in the back of her mind she hears nothing but the void ringing in her ears as she drags her nail across her skin in vaguely familiar motions of a face. 

Ray plops her down in the room, and begins to re-explain everything about his “game”.

She listens half-heartedly and continues to drag her nail into her thigh.

The dress really is overkill. 

* * *

As she lays on the bed— _she remembers dying here once_ —and contemplates what she’s going to do, it more or less ends up with her staring at the ceiling until Ray comes running into her room.

Shooting up from the bed, she blinks rapidly at him, and tries to adjust her timing before she clears her throat to ask why he’s here.

Her throat feels choked, and she realizes that she’s already went off the planned script just the first day in.

Glancing out the window, she sees that it’s become dark— _how long has it been_ —and she comes to the startling conclusion that she has been stuck in her head for so long that she’s already transitioned into nighttime.

There is a confused sound at her question, and she catches Ray looking at her with a concerned face before he haltingly answers.

He slowly approaches her.

She feels like dying.

Ray reaches her with a concerned look on his face as he quietly questions her about the game, and she manages to pull up some calm as she slowly breathes, “It was really good.”

A smile is written onto her features— _forever permanent, never stop smiling_ —but it feels like it’s straining at the muscles in her face and tearing away at her like a sticker that’s been peeled off a table and hastily stuck into her face.

Her body feels sluggish as she continues to attempt to process Ray’s usual questions, and she ends up falling back on the script. 

Words leave her mouth like the playback of a CD, and she tries to keep herself in line as she answers his questions. 

She thinks she manages it.

* * *

Her sleep schedule ends up becoming something like a cat’s, and the naps she takes in between every chat and call serves as a substitute for her lack of sleep at night.

She honestly wonders why they’re all awake and up so late and early, but she realizes that she can’t say anything because she doesn’t remember what the outside world even feels like anymore.

The confines of her existence are reliant on a single group of people— _a single woman, her mind seethes_ —and she mindlessly tells herself to shut up before it gets worse.

It works.

But the problem was that she forgot that Ray was still in the room, and he blinks at her in confusion at her words.

He looks briefly hurt, before apologizes spew out of his mouth and he saunters toward her timidly.

A burning bonfire blazes in her heart at how he practically throws himself over her and tells her not to leave, and the darkness in her starts spewing oil into he flames.

Everything in her is screeching— _look at what you did you useless_ —and she can feel the tiredness in her very marrow.

Quietly placing her hand on his, she tells him that it wasn’t for him, but for her.

Ray slowly seems to reach a conclusion that she hasn’t, because he quietly tells her that she’ll be fine after this week.

She has no idea what he’s talking about, but she simply smiles and acquiesces with all his ideas.

( _there is a void eating away at her soul)_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic will most definitely deviate from whatever’s gonna happen in ray’s route (can u tell I haven’t played yet)
> 
> pretend ray’s route doesn’t exist for this I guess lol (maybe. Idk I might include it??)


End file.
